Ravikant Kisana’s Meet the Savarnas is an angry, provocative, and deliberately unsettling book. It announces its intent clearly from the title itself: this is not a polite sociological inquiry but a polemical intervention aimed at exposing how caste privilege—especially among urban, English-speaking, upper-caste Indian millennials—has shaped politics, culture, and public discourse while remaining largely invisible to those who benefit from it.
Core Argument and Strengths
At its best, the book performs an important function: it forces savarna privilege into the spotlight. Kisana argues that India’s post-liberalisation elite—journalists, academics, activists, startup founders, and cultural commentators—often speak the language of progressivism while remaining deeply insulated from the structural realities of caste. According to him, this group has failed not because it is overtly reactionary, but because it is mediocre, self-referential, and complacent, mistaking moral posturing for real political or social transformation.
One of the book’s strongest aspects is its unapologetic Dalit-Bahujan perspective. Kisana refuses to dilute his critique for elite comfort. He challenges savarna dominance in publishing, activism, and media spaces, arguing that these spheres routinely marginalise non-savarna voices while claiming inclusivity. This refusal to seek validation from the very structures he critiques gives the book moral clarity and political urgency.
The writing is accessible, contemporary, and conversational, making complex ideas about caste, power, and representation readable for a non-academic audience. Kisana’s use of satire, sarcasm, and cultural references—especially from social media discourse—helps the book resonate with younger readers familiar with online debates around caste and privilege.
Where the Book Falters
However, the book’s greatest strength is also its biggest weakness. Its polemical tone, while emotionally compelling, sometimes collapses nuance. The category of “savarnas” is often treated as a monolith, flattening differences of ideology, dissent, and internal contradiction within upper-caste groups. This risks replacing one form of essentialism with another.
At times, the argument leans heavily on moral indictment rather than empirical depth. While anecdotal examples and cultural critique are effective rhetorically, the book could have benefited from more sustained engagement with data, institutional histories, or counter-arguments. Readers looking for a rigorous sociological framework may find the analysis uneven or impressionistic.
There is also a tendency toward overgeneralisation. Not all failures of Indian liberalism or millennial politics can be convincingly attributed to savarna mediocrity alone. Factors such as neoliberal economic structures, state repression, global political shifts, and technological disruption receive comparatively limited attention. As a result, the causal net sometimes feels too tightly drawn.
Political Impact and Reception
Meet the Savarnas is unlikely to persuade readers who are already defensive about caste privilege. In fact, its confrontational style may harden resistance among precisely those it seeks to provoke. Yet that may not be a flaw so much as a strategic choice. The book is less interested in consensus-building than in disrupting complacency.
For Dalit-Bahujan readers, the book offers something rare in mainstream Indian publishing: recognition, rage, and articulation of long-silenced frustrations. For savarna readers willing to engage honestly, it can function as an uncomfortable but necessary mirror.
Conclusion
Meet the Savarnas is not a balanced book—and it does not pretend to be. But it demands a balanced reading. It is a sharp, partisan critique that succeeds in unsettling dominant narratives about merit, progressivism, and Indian modernity, even as it sometimes sacrifices complexity for force.
As a political intervention, it is effective and timely. As an analytical work, it is uneven but thought-provoking. One may disagree with its tone, scope, or conclusions, but dismissing it outright would mean ignoring one of the most candid challenges to savarna self-image in contemporary Indian discourse.
In that sense, the book may not “break everything”—but it certainly breaks the silence.
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